You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) I was hesitant, I didn't trust the hag, or anyone for that matter. But something beckoned me to speak. A voice in my head that wasn't my own.
"I was once part of a noble family of dark elves among high society, often socializing with royals and attending balls. My family was well respected and had a great deal of power. I was content with my life and wanted for nothing. But my father was a general for the royal family, and could be cold and ruthless at times. One day I heard my father had plans to marry me off to secure a military alliance. I did not want to marry anyone, not ever. I fled in the middle of the night with everything I could fit into my satchel. I decided to follow the forest to a town south of the city that I had heard talk of in the past. A coastal town where I could try to trade some of the belongings I had with me for food. I knew my father would send people after me. I no longer had the resources or privileges I once had, and I did what I had to survive." I finished, offering no other details. I had to keep some of it to myself, for my own safety. I also felt like she knew my story already, somehow seeing into my past.
